


Something Weightless

by Volant



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Lazy Mornings, drabble (kind of)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 16:31:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8379433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Volant/pseuds/Volant
Summary: Brienne owns what may the most comfortable couch in Westeros.





	

Brienne owns what may be the most comfortable couch in all of Westeros. This is a tidbit of information that Jaime collected a couple years ago, back when they’d just barely been on speaking terms. To this day, Jaime doesn’t know what possessed him to show up, blackout drunk, on the porch of her little blue house.

(That’s a lie, but given a choice, Jaime will always choose faking amnesia over discussing Cersei)

“The only reason I even considered letting you in,” Brienne says every time he brings it up, “is because you started singing that awful song about the bear.”

And that’s how it started–with Brienne pulling Jaime into the comfortable living room of her home, sitting him down on the couch, and listening to him spill all his dirty secrets while she made him down glass after glass of cold water. In the morning, Jaime had woken up lying face-down on brown suede cushions, covered from ankle to chin by an old, crocheted afghan. 

It’s happened more than a few times since then–enough that Jaime has a toothbrush in Brienne’s narrow, outdated bathroom. Enough that he knows how to work her decrepit little coffeemaker. Enough that he has a key. 

So after two years, they’re comfortable around each other. If Jaime sometimes dreams about Brienne’s eyes, if he can’t pass by a record store without stopping in to see if they have something to add to her collection of old love ballads, if he occasionally made the trip out to the suburbs just so he’d have an excuse…well.

It’s almost two years into their…thing, the kind of Saturday morning where the sun eases you into opening your eyes, when Jaime wakes up on the couch for the last time. He’s curled into the worn-out suede cushions, afghan tickling his nose. Jaime stretches his toes off the far arm of the couch and takes a minute to work the stiffness out of his bad hand before he sits up. 

“Coffee’s ready,” Brienne says from the kitchen, like clockwork. Her voice is rough from sleep. 

Jaime wraps the afghan around his shoulders and shuffles around the low table and through the door that leads into the kitchen. He can smell bacon and eggs, and sure enough there is Brienne, her back to him, fiddling with the stove’s burner dials. 

She turns when she hears his feet on the tile floor and offers him a bleary smile. Brienne is always a little pink in the morning, in a way that highlights her freckled nose and scarred cheek and–most importantly–her blue, blue eyes. 

“Coffee,” Brienne reminds him, and points an elbow to the steaming mug on the counter beside her. Jaime picks it up and breaths in the smell. He hums his approval and shifts, levering himself up onto his toes to press a thankful kiss to the corner of Brienne’s mouth. Jaime only realizes what he’s done when Brienne goes stock still beside him. 

“God,” Jaime says, stepping back. He puts the coffee down. “Brienne.” 

He’s about to go on to say something about how he’s still waking up, how it was an accident (and not, definitely not something that he’d imagined doing more than once) and he’s so sorry when he gets a good look at Brienne’s face.

“Are you smiling?” Jaime says, slowly.

“No,” Brienne says, and–pinker than ever–grins at him.

“Why are you smiling?”

“No reason,” Brienne says. She reaches to the side and turns the stove off, moving the pan of scrambled eggs to one of the unused burners before she turns to look at Jaime again. 

She says, “we should do that again.”

Jaime squints at her. 

“You’re serious,” he says after a moment.

“Very,” Brienne says. Then, like it’s some kind of bribe– “you can finish that first.”

That’s when it clicks in Jaime’s head–he kissed Brienne and she didn’t mind. He kissed Brienne and she was happy about it. He kissed Brienne Tarth and she wanted to do it again.

“Okay,” Jaime says. He steps closer, so that he can smell the clean-laundry smell on her skin. “But that was nothing. You’re getting a real kiss this time.”

Brienne’s blue eyes twinkle down at him. 

“Prove it,” she says.


End file.
